


Family Portrait

by cazmalfoy



Series: Assassin Ianto One-Shots [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>My wonderful little dream world will be shattered by one boy who can practically read minds and another who's in almost constant pain.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my assassin Ianto universe.
> 
> This is set between Hands of Destiny and Sins of the Fathers.

Jack Harkness refused to open his eyes. He knew it was early in the morning, but he didn’t want to open his eyes and look out of the window to find that it was raining or dark and dreary; or worse, snowing.

He had never liked snow. In all the time he had been living in the past, winter and snow were the two things he hated. Coming from Boeshane Peninsula, where it was always sunny and sandy, Jack could never quite get used to the feel of snow on his face or the rain in his eyes.

Beside him, Jack felt the other occupant of the bed roll over and stretch. Ianto groaned quietly, the sound muffled slightly – presuming by his hands covering the assassin’s face. “It’s six am,” he mumbled after a moment of silence.

Jack cracked open an eye and glared at the other man. “I was trying to avoid finding out the time,” he muttered darkly.

Ianto frowned and rolled over so he was lying on his right side, facing Jack. “Why?” he asked, placing his hand in the centre of his partner’s chest and drawing small circles with his index finger.

“Because the sooner I admit what time it is, the sooner that door will open and my wonderful little dream world will be shattered by one boy who can practically read people’s minds and another who’s in almost constant pain.”

The assassin could feel the guilt rolling off of Jack and sighed to himself; it wasn’t the first time that he had felt Jack feeling guilty about the Rift energy flowing into their newborn son, regardless of how many times Ianto reminded him that it was supposed to happen.

“Will, we’ve been over this a thousand times,” Ianto said carefully, not wanting to upset the older man.

Jack sighed and met Ianto’s eyes with his own. “I know,” he whispered, leaning up and capturing Ianto’s lips in a soft kiss. “I know. I just…”

He broke off when the door slowly opened and a skinny boy with light brown hair slowly came through the door, a teddy bear clutched in one hand while the other tried to wipe sleep from his eyes.

“Tada,” Rory whined, climbing up onto the bed and somehow managing to work his way underneath the covers that were tightly wound around his parents. “My head feels funny,” he muttered, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

Ianto leant down and pressed a soft kiss against Rory’s forehead. “What kind of funny?” he asked softly.

Rory shrugged his shoulders as best as he could given that he was lying down. “Feels tingly,” he eventually described. “Itchy.”

Ianto and Jack looked at each other over the top of their son’s head. Whenever the three year old described his Rift headaches as ‘itchy’ they knew something big, or potentially big, was on the horizon. The itchy feeling Rory experienced was probably a build of Rift energy and it almost always lead to a pain worse than a migraine.

“I’ll call the team,” Ianto whispered, seeing that Rory was drifting off to sleep again. “Let them know that something’s going to happen.”

He pressed another kiss against Rory’s forehead before sliding out of bed and leaving the room quietly.

Jack leant up on one elbow and silently watched Rory sleep. Everyday he saw his son, he found it hard to believe that he would one day grow up into the young man he had met almost four years before.

Remembering Rory’s trip into the past still hurt – to lose Gwen in such a horrible way and to find out he would be having the child he so desperately wanted not long after still cut Jack though to the bone. But whenever he looked at Rory and thought about the sacrifice Gwen had made, he couldn’t bring himself to want to change time. 

Rory groaned as the pain in his head increased and he rolled over, curling into Jack’s side and pressing his face against his father’s neck.

The Time Agent smiled and pressed his lips against Rory’s forehead, not liking how hot his skin was. The Doctor had checked Rory out when he had been born, and assured the Time Agents that their son was not in danger being connected to the Rift – as long as he stayed near Cardiff.

They had tried taking the three year old away from the Hub and immediate area, but the pain Rory felt had stopped them from going any further. As a result of Rory not being able to move too far away from Torchwood’s base, Jack and Ianto had renovated several rooms in the Hub and the small family had moved in there.

The bedroom door opened and Ianto came in, holding the hand of their eldest son, who was yawning just as Rory had been. 

“What’s he doing up so early?” Jack asked, holding the covers up to allow Dominic to slide under them and curl against his father’s other side.

“His head was feeling ‘itchy’,” Ianto murmured, running his hand over Dominic’s dark hair.

He smiled when Dominic sighed happily and closed his eyes, joining his brother in dreamland.

Jack frowned. “We need to teach them both how to shield soon,” he murmured, looking down at both his sons. “I know there’s nothing I can do to help Rory, but it’s not fair for Nicky to have to feel that as well.”

Ianto sighed and knelt on the bed, he leant over and pressed his lips against Jack’s. “There has been Rift activity,” he informed the Captain, stroking his fingers down Rory’s cheek and them Dominic’s. “I’ve called the team, they’re on their way.”

“What about Tish?” Jack asked. “We’ll need someone to look after these two,” he reminded his partner. “Nicky’s only five, he can’t take care of Rory by himself.”

“He’s not,” Ianto assured him. “Their daddy’s babysitting.”

“But…”

Ianto shook his head. “The Rift spike is only small. It’s nothing the rest of the team and I can’t handle. You stay here and look after these two.”

Jack looked torn. Ianto could tell he wanted to help the team out, but he could also tell that he wanted nothing more than to stay at home with their children.

“I’ll be back as soon as we get rid of whatever it is,” Ianto murmured, pressing another kiss against Jack’s forehead before dressing quickly and heading through their rooms into the Hub.

~

Dominic was already washed and dressed when Ianto returned later that morning. The young telepath was sitting at the desk in the corner of the living room, scribbling feverishly over a piece of paper.

When he had heard the door open, Jack ducked out of the kitchen and saw his lover standing by the door, unsure about what to say to his partner.

“Get in the bathroom,” Jack whispered as he moved away from the kitchen, towards their bedroom. “I’ll bring you some clean clothes. Don’t let Nicky see you.”

Ianto nodded; glad both he and Jack were able to shield their thoughts from their children, before slipping into the bathroom.

He closed the door, not locking it until Jack arrived with clean clothes. Taking a deep breath, Ianto forced himself to look up at his reflection in the mirror; wincing at the image he saw looking back at him.

His face was a bloody mess – literally. Cuts and bruises marred his skin, ranging from small scratches to deep gouges. There was a large cut that had moved across his cheek from his nose to just by his ear. 

He titled his head to the side and examined the skin of his neck. There was nothing there now of course, but the dried blood on his neck and the fact that his previously white shirt was red, were clear indicators that things hadn’t gone entirely to plan.

Even though he had been immortal for almost five years, it didn’t feel any easier coming back to life than it had the first time. Jack had once described coming back to life as being dragged over hot coals and broken glass: Ianto finally understood every word of that statement.

The assassin shrugged out of his ruined clothes and threw them on the floor, stepping over to the shower and pressing the power button. He waited for a few moments until the water was at the right temperature before stepping under the spray.

The water stung the cuts on his face, making him hiss, but he knew they would heal soon so he wasn’t overly worried. The thing that concerned him the most was getting rid of the evidence of his most recent death before Dominic or Rory saw. 

Neither boy knew that their parents were immortal and neither Jack nor Ianto had any idea how to tell them: Or when to tell them.

The door opened and Ianto turned under the spray, watching as Jack entered the room, closing the door behind him. 

“I got you some clean clothes,” Jack murmured, placing the clothes on the closed toilet seat and leaning against the sink.

Ianto nodded his head, “Thanks,” he whispered.

He finished cleaning the blood away in silence before stepping out of the shower and turning the water off. He dried himself off and dropped the towel into the wash basket before looking in the mirror once more.

Thankfully the smaller cuts on his face had healed a little more, but the largest cut would take at least a few days to be gone completely.

“I’m fine,” he stated, seeing Jack’s reflection watching him intently.

“What happened?” Jack slowly asked, pushing away from the counter and wrapping his arms around Ianto’s naked waist.

Ianto remained silent, staring at the mirror and covering Jack’s hands. “Hostile aliens,” he stated simply.

Jack drew in a gasp of breath and Ianto immediately squeezed his hands, reminding him that if the assassin’s empathic abilities could pick up Jack’s fear, so could Dominic. 

It took several attempts for Jack to bring his shields back up, the fear he felt for his partner was too strong sometimes – regardless of how many times Ianto reminded Jack that he was immortal as well. When he looked up and their eyes met in the mirror once more, Ianto couldn’t feel the fear anymore, although it was still evident in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, releasing Jack’s hands and turning around in his arms. He brought his arms up, threading his fingers through Jack’s soft brown hair. “I’m okay,” he murmured, ducking his head a little and resting his forehead against Jack’s. “I’m always okay.”

Jack scowled deeply. “You don’t know how much I hate that you’re this way because of me. If I hadn’t have been taken, you’d have never been on the TARDIS and this never would have happened.”

Ianto pulled away and threw Jack an angry look as he began to pull on the clothes the older man had brought for him. “Don’t start that again, Will. You know as well as I do that I was supposed to be this way; even the Doctor said that, for crying out loud.”

“I know how you feel because I hate the fact that you’re this way as well. But I know there is nothing I can do to change that.” 

His icy glare made Jack nod his head and mumble an apology under his breath, before leaving Ianto alone to clean up.

When he was dressed and looked a little more presentable, Ianto followed Jack out of the room.

Ianto quietly opened the bedroom door and felt his heart tighten at the sight before him. Rory was lying in the middle of Jack and Ianto’s bed, the large king-size mattress making the three-year-old look even smaller.

Silently the assassin crossed the room and carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, trying hard to not wake his youngest son up. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Rory’s forehead; thankfully he didn’t feel as hot as he had that morning.

The simple touch was enough to rouse Rory from his sleep. “Tada?” he asked, sleepily rubbing his hands over his eyes. 

Ianto smiled and leant down, pressing a kiss to Rory’s forehead. “Hey. How’s your head?” he whispered in Welsh. Their children were fluent in all three languages Ianto and Jack could speak; Welsh was Rory’s favourite.

Rory yawned widely and turned on his side, cuddling around Jack’s pillow and drawing his legs closer. “Feels better,” he murmured. “Where’s daddy?” he asked, burying his nose into the pillow and breathing in Jack’s scent. 

“Making lunch,” Ianto replied, brushing Rory’s hair away from his face. “I’ll wake you up when it’s ready,” he added, kissing the top of his head before getting to his feet.

Ianto straightened the quilt a little before quietly moving to the door and leaving the room, leaving the door open just a little in case Rory needed either of them.

Dominic was still sitting at the desk, drawing furiously on a piece of paper. He didn’t even seem to have realised Ianto was back. 

The assassin made his way over to the couch and leant back against the cushions, closing his eyes tiredly.

He had barely been sat down for a minute before he felt the couch dip beside him and someone crawl into this lap. He knew without opening his eyes that it was Dominic; no way was Jack that light.

“Hey,” he greeted, his eyes flickering open as he smiled down at their eldest son. “Were you behaving for daddy?” he asked in the language of his and Jack’s home time; Dominic loved the way the words flowed from his mouth, and liked to use it as much as possible.

Dominic nodded his head, looking up at Ianto with a pout very much like Jack’s. “I drew you a picture,” he stated, handing the assassin the piece of paper in his hand.

“Thank you,” Ianto replied, taking the page from him and looking down at the drawing.

He felt a swell of pride inside him when he looked down at the paper and saw a detailed drawing of the Hub. “Who are these?” he asked, pointing to the figures; it was obvious who they were because of their attire but he could tell Dominic wanted to explain.

“That’s you,” Dominic began to point out the figures, “that’s daddy, me and Ror.” He pressed his finger to the top of the Hub, “Myfanwy is asleep here,” he stated to explain her absence.

Ianto chuckled and pressed a kiss to Dominic’s forehead and carefully stood up, holding his eldest son in his arms as he headed through the apartment into the kitchen. Jack was still cooking when Ianto entered the room, sitting Dominic down at the table and moving over to the fridge.

“Which magnets?” he asked Dominic, stepping to the side so the young boy could see clearly.

Dominic bit his lip in thought before he announced, “The ‘D’, ‘P’, ‘H’ and ‘J’.”

Jack grinned and laughed when he heard his son state his own initials; they had been worried that learning four names might have been too much for Rory and Dominic, but neither boy had encountered any problems. (Although Rory still struggled to spell ‘Franklin’ sometimes.)

Ianto used the magnets Dominic had pointed out to attach the picture to the fridge before stepping back so their eldest son could see. “Is that okay?” he asked, waiting for Dominic’s nod of approval before moving around the kitchen to help Jack with lunch.

When the food was nearly cooked, Ianto nudged Jack and murmured, “Go wake up, Rory; see if he’s feeling any better.”

Jack nodded his head, stirring what was in the pan once more – it still amazed Ianto that at some point he had learnt how to cook – and taking a step back. On his way past, he ruffled Dominic’s hair; making the young boy laugh.

Rory was still in the same position Ianto had left him in, when Jack pushed the door open and made his way over to the bed. 

“Ror,” Jack whispered, reaching up and pressing the back of his hand against his son’s forehead; thankfully, his temperature was returning to normal. “Wake up, kiddo,” he added.

Rory groaned and stirred, his blue eyes flickering open as he looked at Jack sleepily. “Daddy,” he murmured.

Jack grinned and leant down, pressing a kiss against Rory’s forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

The young boy ran his hand over his face, trying to rid sleep his eyes in a way that was almost identical to Ianto. “Hungry,” he eventually decided.

The Captain laughed and pulled the covers back a little. “Well, come on then,” he instructed, picking his son up and holding him against his chest; immediately Rory’s arms and legs went to wrap around Jack’s waist and neck. “Let’s go see if tad has ruined the lunch I made.”

Rory laughed and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder as they headed downstairs to join the rest of the family. 

The End


End file.
